


Croatoan

by serephent



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Clark hate magic (Bruce hates it more), Fluff and Humor, It's all fun and games until someone spills a love confession, M/M, Magic, No one deadpans like Bruce, So many goddamn feels, SuperBat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28491978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serephent/pseuds/serephent
Summary: Nobody keeps more secrets than Batman. Normally, Superman puts that fact in the 'not worth the fight' column. Then again, normally they're not trapped with a creature that feeds on secrets. And, well, Clark's more than a little worried Bruce will choose death over disclosure.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 14
Kudos: 204





	Croatoan

**Author's Note:**

> What better way to start off the New Year than with some Superbat fluff? 
> 
> **Betas:** I was blessed to have the amazing combination of [Cattyk8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattyk8), [Holdt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holdt), and [Internerdionality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Internerdionality) helping on this, for which I'm eternally grateful.

"Why is it whenever we're up against some kind of magical creature, more often than not, our attacks do diddly-squat?" Superman demands, sealing the elevator closed with his heat vision. Floating down the hall, he does the same to both sets of fire doors and first bathroom door, before he retreats through the vestibule, and into the bathroom proper, repeating the process a final time. 

_“Batman,_ _come in._ "

“Oracle, tell me you have an answer, because that damn thing sounds _hungry_ , and it's determined to make us the main course and we’re out of building.”

_"Going off those disgusting pictures from the cowl, tall, dark and ugly there is called a Croatoan. It’s like a venus fly trap mixed with an octopus. They stab their victims in the throat so they can’t scream and then dissolve them with acid like saliva until there’s nothing left. Legend has it—"_

"Skip to how we stop it."

_"Right. It feeds on people keeping secrets. So, no more secrets and it'll starve to death."_

"You can't be serious. Did you talk to Zatanna?"

_"Who do you think told me how to stop it? And before you ask, no she can't magic it away. Good luck. Oracle out."_

"Fuck."

"Well?"

"Nothing."

"You do know I could hear her, right?"

"Then why did you ask?"

"I was being polite."

"Do you know how many things I know that others don't?"

Clark rolls his eyes. "More commonly referred to as _secrets_."

"Yes, and they're _mine_ to tell or not."

"Oh, for the love of...."

"I don't expect you to understand. You're a boy scout, how many secrets can you really have?"

"I'm an alien. A literal _alien_ from another planet."

Bruce growls before turning off both of his comms and then looks expectantly at Clark, who flashes an 'oh shucks' smile and turns his comm off too.

"Okay, it's just us now. So?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm still deciding if death would be preferable."

"There's an actual monster out there. One that we can't stop any other way, because we've tried them all, and you're still _deciding_?"

"Yes."

"Oh. My. God. I can't believe you!" Clark fumes.

"Superman..."

"What? Do you think you hold the market on secrets? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I have things _I_ don't want you to know? Rao! You're unbelievable."

"So you've said. But you—"

"I could just…" Rubbing at his neck, he tips his head back and forces an exhale through his nose. It takes a moment for Clark to go from processing that the room is turning red and his eyes are twitching, to squeezing them closed as he slaps a hand over both. Superspeed is the only reason he successfully prevents a heat vision blast.

"I was trying to tell you."

"And obviously failing miserably! Damnit, B! What if I hadn't reacted in time? I could have _killed_ you."

"I would have moved." Bruce shrugs. "Or not."

"Don’t tempt me," he mutters as he removes his hand and cautiously opens an eye. 

"Relax. I trust in your level of control. Besides, death by heat vision doesn't even crack my top twenty list of most likely ways I'll die."

"Funny how little that inspires me with confidence, Bruce."

"Codenames in the field."

"You are un-fucking-believable."

"Language."

"So help me, _Bruce_ , you'll need to amend that list because I really _am_ going to kill you." 

"Still not sure that isn't the preferable option."

"And seeing as that isn't actually one, you're just going to have to suck it up and trust me." He completely ignores Bruce's scowl. "Look, we can take turns. I'll even start."

Bruce waves dismissively, as if to say 'go on' although he doesn't actually appear to be paying all that much attention. Which is fine with Clark, who is fairly certain he's failed in his effort to keep from turning bright red with embarrassment.

"I, uh… slept with Lex."

"I beg your pardon? Not all of us have superhearing."

 _Bastard_. Clark knows he heard him and is just enjoying making him say it again. "I slept with Lex, okay?"

"That explains a lot."

"What? No! Rao. Not as Superman. It was during my first semester of college." Clark sputters with indignation. "Do you really think I'd let Lex destroy Metropolis on a semi-regular basis if I thought there was even the slightest chance of getting him to stop by sleeping with him?"

"You _are_ a boy scout, and that's your big secret? Please," he condescends. "Even I've fucked Lex." 

Clark opens and closes his mouth. 

"I'm not sure why that surprises you, Kal. Casual sex is an intragal part of my playboy persona." Bruce shrugs. "So has Queen and Ferris. Fucking is basically Luthor’s version of a handshake."

"Not all of us live our lives in the shadows."

"Doesn't matter if you're standing in the sun, Kal. You spend all day, every day, lying to the people around you. So you're kidding yourself if you think _those_ are the extent of your secrets."

"You think I don't know that, Bruce? That I'm somehow unaware of the fact I'm a fraud? _Truth_ , Justice and the American way."

Bruce pushes the cowl back. "Kal."

"No." He wipes at his eyes.

"I never—" He licks his lips, swallows thickly, and tries again. "You are _not_ a fraud, Kal. I've never met anyone more genuine in my life, and to be perfectly honest, it's really damn annoying at times."

Clark huffs a small laugh. "Only at times?"

"Don't push your luck." Bruce sighs. "You're right about me living in the shadows, but you and that fucking farmboy golly-gee grin somehow manage to pierce the darkness. You don't stand in the sun, Kal. You _are_ the sun. For me, and anyone else lucky enough to be in your orbit. I'm grateful for your friendship."

"See? Not that bad. And look, no lightning bolt from on high to smite either of us."

"Yet."

So as not to lose momentum, Clark ignores the itch to engage in some verbal sparring. "I let the world think Lois is Superman's girlfriend because it's easier on _me_ , even knowing it puts _her_ in danger."

"Have you met Lois? With or without Superman, she's a danger magnet, and I suspect she wouldn't have it any other way. At least that cover lets you save her adrenaline junkie ass. So don't be too hard on yourself."

The fact Bruce chose to treat the confession as if it really was a revelation, when the chances he didn't already know were next to nil, isn't lost on Clark.

Bruce takes a deep breath and blows it out. After a few beats he says, "I found Joe Chill."

"You never…"

"I stood in the same room with that piece of shit, and I wasn't strong enough."

"Bruce—"

"You don't understand, Kal. Their killer was just _sitting there_ in front of me, with no hope of escape, and I. _Couldn't. Do. It_."

"Because you're a good man, who doesn't kill people, regardless of what they've done. That's not weakness, Bruce, it's strength."

Bruce redistributes weight by shifting from foot to foot, and then rolls his shoulders. "This is pointless. I fail to see how information, which wouldn't make any difference in your life, should qualify as a secret."

"You're right. It makes a lot more sense that they have to be personally relevant to both of us. I mean, Ma's secret apple pie recipe wouldn't matter to you."

"How do you know? It could."

Clark rolls his eyes. "You don't eat pie."

"Hnh."

"Besides, I already know your biggest secret."

"Do you now?"

"Yeah, but I've got to tell you, it's not actually much of one. I mean, it's obvious that you have _feelings_. You try to hide it, but you care more deeply for people than just about anyone I've ever met, aside from maybe a few literal saints."

"You need to get out more."

After a quick check on the progress of the Croatoan shows it's almost through the fire doors, Clark takes a deep breath. They're running out of time. 

Clark only has one secret left.

"I care for you, Bruce…" In for a pound. No going back now. Clark imagines stepping off a cliff, when you can't fly, is probably something akin to this. "As more than just a friend. I know you don't feel the same and that's fine, but life-or-death honesty time and all."

"It's alright, Kal."

Bruce reaches out and gently tips Clark’s chin up, looking him in the eyes. "I know you've been listening to my vitals. So _listen_."

Clark hasn't been, at least not actively. He's listening to _every_ sound in the building to keep tabs on the creature. He focuses on the details captured by his memory and plays them back against the conversation. Oh. _Oh._

But no, that can't be right. He must be projecting what he _wants_ to believe onto the data. There's no way that Bruce, who can have anyone in the world with just a word, would then turn around and choose him. That only happens in Clark's fantasies. He doesn’t get to finish his reanalysis, because suddenly Bruce surges forward and slams their lips together, causing Clark’s brain to short circuit. 

Because holy shit. 

_Bruce_ is kissing him. 

He gasps, mouth falling open as Bruce grips his hair, holding him tight, tongue delving into Clark’s mouth, tasting every part of it, filling it, claiming it, _devouring_ it as if starving. Clark’s never been kissed like this in his life. Steadying himself with a hand on Bruce’s hip, he presses himself right back against Bruce, holding him close. It’s intoxicating, and with a moan, Clark gives himself over. To this moment. To sensation. To Bruce.

Bruce finally breaks the kiss, sliding his hand down to the back of Clark's neck, keeping him close, forehead to forehead. "Fuck."

"And people say you suck at verbally expressing yourself."

"Lantern and Arrow don't count as people."

A loud screech snaps Clark back to situational awareness, and with it comes the realization he'd stopped paying attention to everything but Bruce.

Including the Croatoan. 

“Oh, come on already!” Clark throws his hands up.

Bruce pulls the cowl back on just before the door gives way, allowing the creature to move into the room, the gaping maw and tentacles hidden under that cloak putting in an appearance once more. 

“ _Finis habentis maleficia_.” 

Clark peers at Zatanna over the bubbling blue puddle now on the ground in front of her. "It sure _looks_ dead, but Oracle said you couldn't kill it?"

"At that moment, I couldn't. Only the witch that summoned the Croatoan can destroy it. For me to be able to, I needed a token, which I didn’t have, but now I do." She holds up a silver necklace. 

“Which means you knew our secrets, or lack thereof, wouldn’t have any bearing on it.”

“It was worth a shot.” Zatanna winks. “I also removed the barrier around the building, so you shouldn’t have any trouble leaving,” she adds with a dismissive twist of her wrist, before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

"I hate magic." 

“It’s not _all_ bad. If not for the magical kick in the ass, you know we’d have drug our feet like the complete and total _idiots_ we are, until forced to fess up by the next life or death event, and Rao only knows when that’ll be.”

“Next Tuesday," Bruce deadpans.

“I said life or death, not apocalypse.”

“Same thing.”

“Now what?”

"Thought I’d ask you to dinner."

"Like a date?"

"Exactly like a date."

**Author's Note:**

> My first drafts are almost entirely dialogue, and then I go back and fill in around it. This time I decided to leave a lot as originally written. Hopefully it works 😁


End file.
